


Call You Home

by ister



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: (again), Angst, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Napoleon is Bad At Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 08:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11100336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ister/pseuds/ister
Summary: "You deserve someone who loves you." - "I deserve you."





	Call You Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [el3anorrigby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/gifts).



> Inspired by this [post](http://el3anorrigby.tumblr.com/post/160910355627/napoleon-you-deserve-someonewho-loves-you).

"You deserve someone who loves you," Napoleon whispers and suddenly, everything stops.

"I deserve you," Illya replies, voice sincere.

There is a small moment of confusion, before Napoleon laughs. It’s an ugly sound, short, simple, cruel and devoid of its usual sincerity.

Right in this moment, more separates them than when they met for the first time, a year ago. Today marks their anniversary, but instead of celebrating, like Gaby has suggested, Napoleon has tilted the earth’s axis with his confession.

“No,” his partner says, suddenly, “No I don’t deserve you.”

He looks anywhere, but into Illya’s direction: at the big photograph, showing all three of them, at his own fingers, twitching nervously, at his chess set. Illya tries to swallow around the lump in his throat, tries to will it down, but it doesn’t work.

It only makes the tightness in his chest stretch out, until he feels like he’s suffocating. Whereas his stomach seems empty, as if a black hole expands inside of him, ready to swallow his emotions. It’s a stupid metaphor, he knows as much and if the situation would have been a different one, he’d tell Napoleon about it and they’d share a laugh.

“Cowboy,” he tries, begs, because he doesn’t understand how he can’t _see_ what he means to him.

“No.” Napoleon goes for nonchalance, giving a laugh, but it sounds more like a cough. “No, Il-, Per-.” Shaking his head he runs a hand over his hair, a nervous habit. “No.”

“Is that the only thing you can say? _No_?” Illya asks, probably harsher than intended, but patience has never been his forte.

“Yes.” Napoleon says.

There is a pause, palpable in the way his partner’s face lacks any emotion, before his lips twitch, involuntarily so - Illya can still see the doubt and pain in his features. In contrast to Napoleon, he doesn’t fight his face splitting into a wide smile.

“Illya, don’t-” Napoleon starts, but he’s not about to let him finish - he doesn’t want to hear it.

Instead, he steps forward, determined, and wraps his fingers around both of Napoleon’s wrists, caressing them. “Cowboy, Napoleon,” he breathes and his partner tenses.

“Don’t be dense, it’s very unfitting.” His hands wander upwards, to the other man’s shoulders, massaging them for a moment.

Napoleon’s normal reaction - an indignant sputter - doesn’t appear. Instead, he gets treated with a sad look and feels like he has kicked a puppy.

With a small sound he pulls Napoleon into him, wrapping his arms around his form. “Even if you wouldn’t deserve me-” The other man lets out a pained sigh after that. “-don’t you think you would at least deserve a chance to try?”

He makes Napoleon look at him. “Love isn’t for people like me,” his partner says. What he doesn’t add is: “I don’t deserve it.” but Illya hears it anyway.

For a few seconds he thinks about how he wants to say what he wants to say, how he wants his message to come across. Finally, he decides on playfulness, because despite Napoleon pretending to be dead serious when it comes to matters of heart, he enjoys lighthearted quips the most. Illya is terrible at them, which only seems to amuse his partner even more.

“What did I say about being dense?” he asks, bumping his forehead against Napoleon’s softly.

“I am not-” - “Not dense?” Illya presses a tender kiss on his nose. “Yes, you are.”

Napoleon leans into him a little bit more. “I don’t know what to say,” he confesses.

“Then don’t say anything.” Illya guides his head on his chest, to shield his partner - from the world, from his doubts, from everything that wants to harm him.

He knows he can’t do much, but show him that love doesn’t need to be complicated, that it doesn’t ask for perfection, that simply “them” is the most powerful statement he can think of. There were enough doubts in his life for him to know that he’s sure of his feelings.

“I love you,” he says therefore and closes his eyes. He doesn’t need for Napoleon to return the sentiment just yet - even if a tiny part of his brain insists he does.

It comes unexpected, when slender fingers bury themselves in the back of his turtleneck, when a tiny sob escapes, when someone breathes: “I love you too.”

It’s nearly inaudible, barley there, but it’s enough to shock Illya to his core.

He wraps his arms more tightly around Napoleon and kisses his hair. Relief washes over him, because not all hope is lost. Later, he needs to show Napoleon that he deserves to be loved, that he is worth every struggle they’re going to face, that it doesn’t matter how broken he thinks he is, because in the end, the only important thing is them. But for now, he lets Napoleon hide from the world and vows to never let him go.

It is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> And we're at the end again. Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it!
> 
> The title was inspired by Kelvin Jones' song [Call You Home](https://youtu.be/immRW4O0ECM). I thought it fits the boys quite well. 
> 
> Originally I posted this fic on [Tumblr](http://napoleonsolos.tumblr.com/post/160939579536/el3anorrigby-napoleon-you-deserve-someonewho), but I decided to share it here too. 
> 
> And again, last but not least: Thanks a lot to my lovely beta [Jo](http://softshao.tumblr.com/), who rocks and deserves at least 10,000 fluffy fics. (Sadly, I'm better at writing angst).


End file.
